


Hate (myself for loving) You

by Seanbiggerstaffrox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angry Sex, Bottom Stiles, Consent Issues, M/M, Power Dynamics, Sexualized Violence, Top Derek, Voyeur Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seanbiggerstaffrox/pseuds/Seanbiggerstaffrox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angry Sterek sex (featuring Voyeur!Scott)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate (myself for loving) You

**Author's Note:**

> You can blame Joan Jett for this

Stiles and Derek are supposed to be video chatting with Scott, who’s down in Los Angeles visiting his father. Actually, it’s only supposed to be Stiles, but then Derek came into his room and interjected himself into the meeting, because Derek’s a dick. The whole video chat thing falls apart when Derek and Stiles start fighting and it escalates to the point where they’re standing in Stiles’ room screaming at each other over …something. Neither can actually remember what, but they’re fighting anyway, furious with each other. Scott tries to stop it at first but gives up when it becomes obvious that they’re ignoring him, too busy yelling in each other’s faces to care.

Screaming turns into brawling when Derek shoves Stiles and the human shoves him back. Derek growls, slamming Stiles’ back against the wall and the teen groans in pain, glaring at Derek with more hostility than can be properly conveyed in a look alone. Stiles leans in, slamming his lips against Derek’s to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. The wolf stills in shock and pulls away, watching Stiles in confusion because they’re barely even friends, much less lovers.

Stiles sneers, pushing out of Derek’s hold. The wolf’s still for a moment before he grabs Stiles, swinging him around and crashing their mouths together as he calls the teen’s bluff. Stiles’ brows furrow and his fingers clutch at Derek’s shoulders. He almost pushes the wolf away, but he’s not strong enough and he doesn’t want to give Derek the satisfaction, so he kisses back fiercely, biting and crashing their teeth together and making it as ferocious as he can make it. Derek growls, digging nails into Stiles’ clothes and the teen snarls, grabbing Derek’s Henley and yanking on it, humming in satisfaction when it rips.

Derek pulls away and shoves Stiles back, glaring down at his ruined shirt. He hikes it up over his head, dropping it on the floor and stomping over to the human, ripping his top away.

“Hey!” Stiles protests, looking down at his torn plaid. It dangles off his frame, just barely covering him, and he pulls it off completely, scowling at Derek. “You’re such a dick.”

“You started it.” Derek points out.

“That’s because you’re a dick.” Stiles says, stepping forward and jamming his finger into Derek’s chest.

Derek glares down at the digit and looks up at Stiles warningly.

“If you want me to move my finger, it’s not gonna happen.” Stiles growls. Derek grabs his wrist and twists and Stiles bites back a pained noise. He reaches up, like he’s going to try to extract his wrist from Derek’s grip, but he changes course at the last moment and punches the werewolf in the face. It hurts Stiles more than it hurts Derek, but it’s satisfying nonetheless.

Derek huffs, letting go of Stiles’ wrist and grabbing his bicep instead, leaning close and snarling.

“Come on, big guy, show me what you got.” Stiles challenges. Derek’s other hand grips at Stiles’ naked waist and the wolf lifts him, slamming him back into the wall and knocking the wind out of him. There will be bruises tomorrow. Stiles bites down on a shout and wraps his legs around Derek’s hips, locking him into place.

Derek glowers at him and Stiles smirks, grinding forward and letting the wolf feel his erection. Derek’s eyes go down, taking in the tent in Stiles’ jeans and the teen feels smug, wondering if it’s enough to scare Derek off. Derek looks up and pushes his pelvis against Stiles, letting him feel the wolf’s answering hardness. Stiles’ lungs freeze.

“We really gonna do this?” He asks.

“You want to?” Derek replies.

“God yes.” Stiles says, leaning forward and capturing Derek’s lips in a kiss. It’s less violent than the previous one but no less angry. “Still hate you.” He mutters as Derek’s arms wind behind his back and he holds him, carrying the teen over to the bed.

“Ditto.” Derek replies, dropping Stiles onto the mattress. The teen lands with a surprised squeak and bounces. He glares up at Derek. The wolf smirks, cocking his eyebrow while he reaches down and undoes his belt. Stiles swallows, watching with wide eyes before mirroring the wolf.

“Lube?” Derek asks, down to his boxers before Stiles even has his zipper undone. Stiles looks at the tent in the wolf’s underpants and shudders, throbbing in his jeans.

“Night stand.” He gasps. Derek goes to get it and Stiles pushes his jeans down. He realizes he hasn’t taken his shoes off and he kicks off the right one, slipping his calf out of the pants leg. He’s about to do the other one when Derek gets back and grabs his ankle, tugging him forward. The wolf drops down and Stiles’ breath hitches, watching Derek squat on the floor between his legs.

“Stay.” Derek warns when Stiles moves to sit up. The human huffs but listens to orders, not realizing that Derek’s words weren’t just intended for him. The wolf glances over at Scott, who’s gaping at them from the monitor. He’d been about to leave, but Derek’s request stills him. Scott meets his gaze before looking back over at Stiles, licking his lips nervously and flushing at the sight of his friend. Derek smirks, reaching forward and literally ripping Stiles’ boxers off.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles says, giving Derek a dirty look. Derek shrugs, looking down and watching Stiles’ erection bob in the air in front of him. If Stiles thinks Derek’s going to give him a blow job, he ends up sorely mistaken, because Derek pushes his legs apart and goes for his ass instead.

Stiles lets out a surprised moan, feeling Derek’s tongue swipe over his entrance. The wolf’s green eyes meet his and Derek grips his ass, holding him open while he swirls the pink appendage around Stiles’ hole. The teen wants to keep watching, because it’s an undeniably arousing sight, but his eyes flutter shut and his head falls back as Derek licks against sensitive nerves.

“Oh.” Stiles groans, his hips wriggling. Derek grabs the back of his thigh and pushes his bared leg up. Stiles’ toes wriggle in his sock, brushing against Derek’s shoulder. His leg’s pressed firmly back, holding Stiles’ into the bed while Derek kisses his entrance. Stiles’ other foot clenches in his shoe and he feels the heavy weight of his jeans still around his ankle. He’s so enthralled with what Derek’s doing that he can’t be properly annoyed by it. Derek presses in, tasting his insides and Stiles’ hand flies back, gripping at the bedding above his head as he arches and moans. His mouth hangs open on gasps and he feels his brain short circuit.

Derek coats his fingers in lube and a digit joins his tongue. It burns, but Stiles is still pissed at Derek, so that only makes it better. Derek fingers him open, gradually building up to three digits and working them in tandem with his tongue. By the time he has Stiles prepared, the human’s moaning and wringing the sheets.

The wolf steps away and Stiles blinks his eyes open, looking up at the man. Derek strips out of boxers and Stiles gulps, taking in the hard line of his cock. It’s shining and arching up toward him, flushed pink and swollen. Derek puts lube on his palm and slicks himself up and Stiles’ throat goes dry. He watches Derek work himself over and sits up on the bed, dick twitching in interest.

“I wanna ride you.” Stiles says.

Derek stops stroking and raises an eyebrow in surprise. He doesn’t seem like he’s protesting, but he’s not complying either and Stiles huffs.

“Get on the bed, jackass.” Stiles snaps.

Derek snorts but follows Stiles’ request, lying down and looking at Stiles expectantly. Stiles shuffles over, shoving his jeans completely off as he goes but leaving the shoe because he’s too impatient. His stomach twists in anticipation as he straddles Derek, feeling the wolf’s warm, bulky frame brush against his thighs. He glowers down at Derek and guides the wolf’s cock into his ass, gasping and moaning as the head pushes past the tight ring of muscles.

“Fuck.” Stiles pants, resting his free hand on Derek’s chest and scraping his fingernails through the hair as he pushes down on the wolf’s cock. Derek groans and Stiles shivers, clenching around him eagerly. Stiles settles onto Derek’s lap, feeling the wolf bottom out inside of him. He’s thick and full and Stiles’ eyes flutter shut for a moment as he relishes it. Derek’s hands grip at his hips and he feels the wolf’s cock twitch inside him. Stiles’ palms rest on Derek’s chest and he lifts himself, dragging Derek’s dick across his insides. Derek groans, gritting his teeth and bucking up against him.

Stiles is shaky at first, testing out the feel of the wolf, but then he sets a rhythm, hard and fast and punishing. He wants this brutal. He puts all his anger into pounding himself back on Derek’s dick and the man responds in kind, fucking up into him and clawing at his thighs.

“Fuck. Fuck. Hate you so much.” Stiles gasps out, leaning forward to slam his lips against Derek’s.

Derek kisses him back and threads fingers into his hair, holding it a fraction too roughly as he punishes Stiles’ lips. “So fucking annoying.” He says, nipping the flesh.

“Dick.” Stiles moans.

“Shut up.” Derek hisses, gripping him roughly.

“Make me.”

Derek flips them over, still managing to keep himself inside of Stiles. He pushes the teen down into the sheets, pulling his hair until Stiles’ head is leaned back and his throat is exposed. Derek slams into him, pushing a cry from Stiles’ lips. He pauses, letting Stiles get his bearings.

“Is that all you got?” Stiles asks, choked and breathless.

Derek smirks, scraping his teeth over Stiles’ neck and slamming into him, this time setting a rhythm that’s too fast and too rough to really feel good. Stiles gets off on it anyway. Stiles drags his nails down Derek’s back, leaving deep scratches that draw blood. Derek bites his neck roughly and Stiles hisses in satisfaction. Derek’s thrusts falter for a moment as he grabs Stiles’ arms and pins them against the sheets. It’s not an intimate gesture, but a dominating one, and Derek looks smug as Stiles struggles ineffectually. He pushes into the teen, the thrust so hard that it jostles Stiles up the bed.

He hits Stiles’ prostate dead-on and Stiles lets out a whine, high-pitched and beautifully submissive. Derek knows that if he keeps going, Stiles will melt underneath him, but he gives him a second to recover, if only to watch the glare on Stiles’ face get wiped off when he repeats the action. Stiles scowls at him, irritated and embarrassed by his momentary compliance. He looks up at Derek’s smirk and knows the wolf’s about to do it again. He glowers warningly and opens his mouth to tell him to go fuck himself, but Derek cuts him off by thrusting into him. Stiles is prepared this time, but it doesn’t stop him from arching back and keening.

“Fuck you.” Stiles manages between thrusts.

“You first.” Derek says smugly as he slams into him. Stiles can’t respond this time, too busy whining and arching against Derek like he’s getting paid for it. His arms twitch in Derek’s grip, but the wolf’s not letting him put up a fight. His hold is strong and effortless and Stiles isn’t left with much choice but to lay under Derek and take it. He hates how much it turns him on. Derek’s such an ass.

Derek’s teeth dig into Stiles’ shoulder, keeping him from moving any further up the bed while the wolf fucks him. Stiles groans, his arms wriggling and his legs shifting restlessly against Derek’s sides. He sucks in ragged inhales and arches, feeling the wolf’s torso scraping against his. Derek’s coarse hair rubs against his nipples, creating burning friction that has Stiles shivering and writhing against the sheets.

Derek listens to the rise and fall of Stiles’ moans, punched helplessly out to the beat of the wolf’s pistoning hips. Derek rumbles in satisfaction, feeling the sweat build between them and smelling the air get thick with arousal. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Scott frozen at the computer, his fingers clenched like he’s trying not to touch himself. The alpha looks more mortified than aroused but Derek figures if he really didn’t like it, he’d turn off his computer

“Der-nnh!” Stiles shakes beneath him, back bowing and legs flexing like he’s trying to close them, which he probably is. It’s too much. Derek knows it’s too much, knows that he should slow down and let Stiles gets his bearings, otherwise his orgasm’s going to be rough and overwhelming, but he casts away sex etiquette in favor of fucking Stiles into oblivion. The human’s been bugging the shit out of him all evening and Derek would like to drive home the fact that he’s still a big, scary werewolf and Stiles needs to shut the fuck up. Besides, Stiles is the one who asked for this in the first place.

Derek plows into the teen, groaning at the feeling of his tight hole squeezing around him. He releases one of Stiles’ arms, trusting that the human isn’t going to try scratching him again, and he pushes his hand between Stiles’ back and the mattress, propping the teen up so he can shove in even deeper. Stiles wheezes beneath him, sounds and syllables punched out like he’s trying to talk but can’t get the words out. Derek takes a sniff of Stiles, trying to make sure there’s no distress there and Stiles isn’t trying to ask him to stop. It’s all arousal coming off the teen, and Derek doesn’t slow down or halt, determined to drive Stiles over the edge. Derek’s giving into primal drives and instincts, dominating Stiles and showing him who’s boss. He gets little thrills, knowing Scott’s watching too.

Stiles is too far gone to even wriggle properly and his arm flails back, twisting into the sheets as he struggles to catch his breath. He’s trying to tell Derek to slow down, but every time he starts, his brains shorts out and his body bursts with sensation, leaving him unintelligible. He whines helplessly, clenching around Derek and seeing stars behind his eyelids. His moans crescendo and crash as his orgasm hits him, making him convulse under the wolf. His body shivers and shakes and his lungs burn from lack of oxygen. He shoots his load so hard it hits him in the face, leaving flecks of cum on his chin and cheek. Derek slows his thrusts, rocking into Stiles a few more times before pulling out and fisting his cock.

Stiles trembles, opening bleary eyes and watching Derek jack himself off over his stomach. The wolf groans and leaves long threads of spunk on his torso. Stiles whines in protest and glares up at Derek as best he can. The wolf smirks and Stiles’ insides flare with irritation.

“Asshole.” He croaks, voice husky and strained around ragged inhales.

Derek leans down, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ mouth and the teen leans into it, biting Derek’s bottom lip. “Are you okay?” Derek asks softly, looking at him seriously.

“Fine.” Stiles bites back. He’s better than fine, actually, but Derek doesn’t need to know that “Now get out.” He says. His dad will be home soon and he doesn’t want to have to explain this.

Derek pulls away, getting off the bed and pulling his boxers and pants on. He glares at his ruined shirt and Stiles snorts. Derek sneers and stomps over to Stiles’ drawer, pulling out a v-neck and yanking it on. It’s a fraction too tight, but it will do until Derek gets home. Stiles thinks it looks hot. Derek grabs his shoes, not bothering to actually put them on as he slips the window open.

“Bye Scott.” Derek calls before hopping out. Stiles’ eyes go wide and he looks over at the computer, where Scott’s shell-shocked face stares back at him.

“ _Dude_.” Stiles says and Scott panics, slamming his laptop shut. The video call ends and Stiles blinks, looking over at his still open window. “Asshole.” He mutters to himself, falling back on the bed and groaning at the weak feeling in his limbs.


End file.
